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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29938227">Poems of a Sparrow || Book 1</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuckmedaddyashshemmo/pseuds/fuckmedaddyashshemmo'>fuckmedaddyashshemmo</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Free Verse, Other, Sad</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-05-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 23:13:37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,108</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29938227</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuckmedaddyashshemmo/pseuds/fuckmedaddyashshemmo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a bunch of random free style poems written by yours truly. All poems are 100% my work.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Prologue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>No translation or reposting allowed without asking. If you see my works elsewhere please tell me.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Warning these poems will be angsty, sad, and depressing. When I write poems I take the pain I am feeling, intensify it, multiply it tenfold, and then write. If you don't like sad writings this book might not be for you. I do not edit these as I believe reading them in their purest form is how to best get the emotions across. If free style poems aren't your cup of tea, may I suggest you read something else?</p><p>I will update this book periodically, when I have written a new poem. These all start in my google docs. And will eventually transfer to here and my Wattpad account (@/fuckmedaddyashshemmo).</p><p>Anygays, without further ado here are my poems!<br/>

- Lake</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Because He Confuses Me.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Poem 1</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He is such a timelessly beautiful enigma. He has all my love, he holds my heart within his delicate hands. Yet those dainty hands could easily ruin me. All he must do is crush my heart and even as the pieces slip through his fingertips I willingly go down worshipping the very</p><p>ground he walks upon. He has the dagger that is my undoing, my love for him just might be my Achilles heel. He has so much control over me, yet I wonder does he even know the power he holds? I beg of him to let me be his Hyacinth, him, my Apollo as he destroys the very essence of</p><p>me. I crave to be his Juliette, but I also ask of him to outsmart Romeo. I weep for him to not follow me into the afterlife. I wish nothing more than for him to let me love him so fiercely that I die giving him pleasure. I desire that he be my Aphrodite and I, just a mere mortal</p><p>throwing my life away if only to have him spare me a glance. For it is in my destiny to love him, to worship him, to cherish him. As for his fate? To be the one to end me, to make the final blow. To know this pleases me. It fills me with the utmost joy to have him as my ultimate</p><p>deliverer. For he may not love me, but I adore his every breath. As he brings everything I have ever known to the end of its existence I know he will whisper sweet nothings into my temple. He will murmur his false love for me into my heaving bosom. He will coo to me as he weeps</p><p>over my fallen body as the air within my lungs parts with me. I can only hope that as he learns to forget me that I do not forget him. He pretends to love me so well. In fact, if you did not his love was faux, you may never know. He is such a passionate lover. He shall one day no</p><p>longer know me. This, a sacrifice I have to make to be able to touch his skin. I only pray to whatever entity that may be above him, if there is one higher than him, that I was able to touch his heart in such a way that he feels my love for him even when I am gone. I know he has</p><p>a compassionate side to him. Although he shows it to almost no one, it is there. Though he may be the bane of my presence, I can not deny that there is no other reason this crimson liquid flows through me other than to love him. So, as it is written in my prophecy, I do love him.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This poem was originally going to be a tweet thread on twitter but the more I poured my heart out the more I decided this wasn't meant for a twitter thread. So I decided to write a poem but keep the characters per part limited on characters. So each part fits into a tweet. Why I did this I'm not entirely sure but it just felt right for this piece.</p><p>- Lake</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. I Just Can't Anymore!</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Poem 2</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>How can I continue to be a light for others when the one within me has all but flickered out? Where there once was a fire so fierce and alive, there is nothing but a smoldering ember left. For weeks now I have tried to blow on this weak ember hoping to find that spark within. Something- ANYTHING- to keep my soul alive. I want to be a light again, but I just can't anymore.</p><p>How can I spread love to those around me when I can't even love myself? Where there once was a heart that would beat so strong and sure, there is a broken shard left. For months now I have tried to glue the shard together with different places, people, things, and moments begging them all to fill me up with love to give away again. But nothing- NOTHING- stays forever. I want to love myself again, but I just can't anymore.</p><p>How can I help others see there is so much to live for when I don't want to live myself? Where there used to be a hope so wild and free, there is nothing but a whisper in the wind. For years now I have tried to call out to that voice telling me there was more than meets the eye in our day to day lives. But hope in anything- EVERYTHING- isn't enough of an escape from the darkness that is consuming me inside. I want to feel alive again, but I just can't anymore.</p><p>So you see, no matter the question. No matter the depth of the problem. The answer is simple. I JUST CAN'T ANYMORE!</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This poem was written in a dark moment within my mind. Please know that I am ok. I am not suicidal at all. This is just a way to express myself.<br/>- Lake</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Mind, Body, Soul, & Heart</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Poem 3</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Only once I have screamed out in pain and frustration do you hear me. Only when I have shown you that my heart is already shattered and my mind is battered do you see me. Only when I have given up on everything do you care about me. Only when I have hated everything in life do you love me. When my mind cries out in sympathy for them. When my body aches in agony for him. When my soul reaches out in empathy for her. When my heart bleeds in anguish for you. Then in those times you assume I am fine.</p><p>What about me? Why do you hear me only after there is nothing left to be yelled? Must I screech until my lungs give out? Why do you only see me only after there is nothing left to be exposed? Must I lay myself bare until I wither away? Why do you care for me only after there is nothing left to feel? Must I withstand the pain until all I know is numb? Why do you love me only after there is nothing left to hold? Must I give away compassion until all that is left is bitterness?</p><p>Surely there must be another way. So, in this very moment I will say no more to her. I will show no more to him. I will do no more for them. I will love no more of you. I have nothing left to give as my mind, body, soul, &amp; heart have been depleted of everything within. So until I have been refilled do not come here as you will find nothing but a person outside with nothing left to hear, see, do, or love.</p><p>Fill me once again and I shall shine once more but until then I shall lie here dormant under the heavens above.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Wowzers. This one's deep. Um not much to say about this one. Was just feeling like I wasn't being heard and... BOOM! This piece happened. So yeah. I hope you like these and hopefully more will come soon. I don't know if all of them will be sad like these last three but I guess only time will tell.</p><p>- Lake</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Need // Love</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Poem 4</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It is only a matter of time until my life shifts again. To where I find myself surrounded by new faces again. With every new face another new name. Another new reason to hate me. A new and different regret of ever knowing me. So many new ways to leave me behind. But I guess in the end that is alright. It is all well and fine as long as you never leave. I need you, it is pathetic I know. To need someone the way I need you, but I do.</p><p>I need your love to warm up my stone cold heart. Right now my heart only knows hatred for myself and others. I need your guidance to direct my wondering soul. For my soul has been lost on the path of selflessness. I need your touch to remind my skin of affection. As my skin burns with each unwanted hand. I need your body to make me feel the passion you have for me. With each day I feel more and more repulsed with myself.</p><p>But it is when I am with you, talking to you, and simply knowing you, that I feel better again. I feel a happiness that is not artificial. I feel a warmth in my bones that is not consuming me with the flames of rage. Because I love you. Call me greedy for the need I have of you, but I think it is simply love.</p><p>Although I tell you daily, I need you. You are the only one I want. The only soul and body I crave and desire. The only mind I wish to know. If only you knew how much you meant to me then maybe with you by my side I could forget everyone else. All those other people who never appreciated me would not even matter, for I would have you. All my shortcomings would no longer exist because with you I am perfect.</p><p>You complete me, and I need you. Please, need me too!</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So I have decided I will do 10 poems per book. Each book will have the same name followed by the number of book!</p><p>Anygays I hope you like this one. I, uh, don’t really know what this one is but yeah here you go!!</p><p>- Lake</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. The Sparrow | Part Two</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Poem 5.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is a two part piece. No you aren’t one the wrong one. I wrote part two first, so I am putting it first. Part one is next so I have put it next. I did it this way because that is the order I wrote it. Would it make more sense the other way? Probably. Do I actually care though? No this is my piece and this is the way I intend it to be read. But if you read part one first who am I to stop you? Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The sparrow cries out but he is never heard. He cries out at different times in the day. Not to woo a mate, no no. He merely wants to be heard. He strains his voice with the volume of his calls. The sound pierces the air yet all his hard work falls onto deaf ears as no one will even spare him more than a glance. Other birds sometimes sing back to him. They call out to him sometimes y’know? And he listens. He always listens to what they have to say. He’ll even gives them advice and try to help them. He tells them the things he has learned, the sights he has seen, and the places he has been. Tells them of the mistakes he has made in hopes they do not do the same. Tells them of the life lessons he has learned in desire of teaching them how to live. He does this because as Oscar Wilde once said, “To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that is all.” The sparrow wants others to live not to merely exist!</p><p>Time and time again this young sparrow sings his song of laments. And even after all the time he has devoted to those who have touched his life, no soul ever wants to hear his tune. It is with a heavy heart that he finds himself sitting on a branch. Sitting there with nothing, not even the sure wind that billows around him, that amounts to enough to help him spread his wings and take off again. He is lucky if he even shuffles to a different spot on the branch if only to have a different view. He is alone in his mind with nothing but a brittle sort of air in his lungs, a chill of sweat running down his spine, and a coldness of abandonment spreading in his heart. As for his tune? He no longer attempts to sing it. A song that once charmed those in his presence now remains in his chest long forgotten. And just like his old sorrowful cries, the sparrow himself slowly fades away. Can you hear his song as he sings it one last time just for you?</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I have never ended a piece on question before so that was new for me...</p><p>I told a friend of mine that I used a sparrow for these two pieces but I couldn’t quite figure out why. She said “because sparrows are so pretty but always get over looked.” Which is better than what I WAS thinking which is that I watched “The Princess Diaries” a few days ago and well... Eagle &amp; Sparrow. Iykyk. Anyways I hope you enjoy both pieces.</p><p>- Lake</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. The Sparrow | Part One</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Poem 6.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The quote “Every artist dips his brush in his own soul, and paints his own nature into his pictures,” in the second paragraph was said by Henry Ward Beecher. I know this isn’t the correct way to annotate but it’s ao3 so...</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Listen closely now! Do you hear him? Do you hear how he sings to you? It’s quite alright if you do not. See because this sparrow, he is used to it. But it wasn’t always like this, oh no! No there used to be a time where the young sparrow felt like his song was heard by all those who would pass by. From those who slithered down below to those who soared high above. Creatures everywhere heard his devotion to his voice in his song. This was because the sparrow took time to learn his song. He spent years trying to learn the right pitch and melody. He did so that all those who would hear could not only feel as though they could feel his passion but so they could also sing along. Oh what a wonder that would have been! For the sparrow to cry out his song and for others to learn parts of it to share with others. To find a part of his tune that was so moving, so touching, to them that they wanted to spread it to everyone around them just as he did.</p><p>His song meant everything to him. It did because he created it. Fused together by the thoughts in his mind, the movement in his body, the hope in his soul, and the love in his heart. It was art! His beautiful ballad he sang day in and day out was truly a masterpiece. Designed just for him by the universe. Sure others have similar cords they sing, but none are just like his. Because “every artist dips his brush in his own soul, and paints his own nature into his pictures,” and the nature of this sparrow's soul was exceptionally wonderful.</p><p>But it didn’t last. As time went on and sparrow flew from branch to branch, he found that it was harder for him to sing his song in full. It wounded him oh so deeply that he could not sing his song in full but he cherished every moment he did sing. He did, truly! Until even those moments became hard to love when they were so few and far between. And the sparrow became scared because one of his ways to escape the dark reality of this crazy world he once lived in was fading away. “Art is the only way to run away without leaving home.” You know Twyla Thrap was onto something there. Although the sparrow could not “run away” as he was too young to truly fly too far from his nest, his song was a way to do just that. His tune would take him somewhere far away without ever taking flight. His song was a powerful thing. So powerful it inspired those around him for so long...</p><p>To this day the restless sparrow does not know how he lost his way in the world. He does not know why no one wants to listen to his song. He does not know when he stopped living to only exist. He does not know what caused his song to lose its value. All he knows is now, almost no one hears his once a mountain moving song. Not even he can hear it. Can you?</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Ok so this one ends with a question too, weird I know but just try to vibe with it yeah?</p><p>These two pieces came from deep within. I have been dealing with a lot of suppressed emotions lately and this was my outlet, The Sparrow. I do apologize for any errors in grammar or spelling, but was like 4:05am when I started Part Two and it is now 5:10am now. But I hope you enjoy these two pieces!!</p><p>- Lake</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. I Painted You A Masterpiece</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Poem 7.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Waking up next to you, hurt me. I play this dangerous game again and again. Where I tell myself “it’s just their words getting to me,” but every time my guard is lowered, I feel it. I feel more than I am allowed and it scares me. But that’s ok because my guard only falls when I’m not sober. It’s not like I feel more when you’re laughing along with me at something only we understand. I feel more when every time you laugh I see your laugh as colors. But not just your laugh but every laugh. True laughs are golden, bright, and blinding. Fake laughs due to anxiety or sadness are faded, teal, and dull. Annoyed laughs are sharp, harsh, and maroon. I feel more because usually when you laugh it’s teal or it’s maroon. But when I make you laugh it’s golden.</p><p> </p><p>Falling asleep next to you, hurt me. I play this dangerous game again and again. Where I tell myself “it’s just your past words getting to me,” but every time my filters are gone, I believe it. I believe that somehow it could work and it terrifies me. But maybe that’s alright because my filters usually come back at some point. It’s not like I believe more because when you're hurting you seek my comfort first. I believe more when you're hurting and the shoulder you find the most solace on happens to be mine. True solace is silver, soft, and airy. Fake solace given from the one that caused pain is fuzzy, turquoise, and dim. Irritated solace is grating, jarring, and burgundy. I believe it might work because usually when you have solace it’s turquoise or it’s burgundy. But when I give you solace it’s silver.</p><p> </p><p>Being near you, hurts me. I play this dangerous game again and again. Where I tell myself “it’s just the universe telling you it’s meant to be,” but every time you just get me, I see it. I see what everyone is talking about and it horrifies me. But it’s probably fine because it has to be. It’s not like I see us being more just randomly. I see more when you need to smile and you look for mine first. True smiles are opal, warm, and inviting. Fake smiles shown to those who made you frown are weak, aqua, and faint. Frustrated smiles are cruel, savage, and crimson. I see us working because usually when you smile it’s aqua or it’s crimson. But when I make you smile it’s opal.</p><p> </p><p>Having distance between us, sombers me. I don’t have to play the dangerous game again and again. This is where I tell myself “I love you but I’m not in love with you,” because every fiber within me gets it, I know it. I know what others say and it’s not so scary. And that’s because I know where I stand with my feelings. It’s not like I forgot how much you mean to me. I know how when you are away from me. True knowledge is onyx, painful, and freeing. Fake knowledge is misleading, aquamarine, twisted. Vexed knowledge is wicked, deadly, and scarlet. I know I simply love you because saying “I’m in love with you” it’s aquamarine or it’s scarlet. But when I just say “I love you,” it’s onyx.</p><p> </p><p>Painting your picture, humbled me. I watch others play a dangerous game again and again. Where I tell myself “it’s just like me to get lost in the colors,” because the more I feel, believe, and see, I paint you. I paint what I want and it’s beautiful. And that’s because I am painting a version of you just for me. It’s not like I’m the only one who paints you. I paint you the same way you paint me. True masterpieces are lasting, permanent, and complete. Outlines are vague, momentary, and earseable. Sketches are temporary, changeable, and transitory. I paint you because others only have outlines or sketches. But when <strong><em>I painted</em></strong> a version of <strong><em>you</em></strong> for me, I made <strong><em>a masterpiece.</em></strong></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Funny story about this poem. It’s about my best friend. I had some confusing thoughts at point about how I felt about her. It was a while ago and I have since figured them out. But I want y’all know I’m in love with my current partner and not my best friend. I also would never cheat, this was just a thought that I changed into a poem to help myself put this whole thing to rest in my own mind. I hope you all enjoyed this poem too. It’s a lot less dark then the last two but still has a melancholy feel over all. Uh, I guess that’s all for this piece.</p><p>ATTENTION ALL READERS!! I will be starting another account and switching all of the poems to that account. I am doing this so that way I have a reading account and a writing account. I want to have a whole account dedicated to my poems, so once it’s up I will switch it over. I will also change this book to have 1 chapter linking the new account and where I moved the book to.</p><p>- Lake</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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